


brave face talk so lightly (hide the truth)

by your typical rockstar (tamquamm)



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Friendship break up, Unhealthy Friendship, cathartic writing, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-26 14:16:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23008738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamquamm/pseuds/your%20typical%20rockstar
Summary: Dylan, naive and hopeful, forgets to keep tabs.Yet, he can’t totally be blamed. It truly is difficult to stay on your toes when Connor McDavid carefully steps into your life, takes your hand, and tells you to jump, to dive in with him.The adrenaline of it all successfully masks the inhibition.
Relationships: Connor McDavid & Dylan Strome
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	brave face talk so lightly (hide the truth)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I wrote this a really long time ago when I was going through something, and for a while I said I would never post it because it really was just something I word vomited out to deal with the emotions and loss I felt at the time. I didn't want it to be taken as something I was posting out of spite. But at the same time, this was written on pure heart so some of the best lines I've written in my life are in this work. And today I had something happen which led to essentially putting together my social media will. While doing so, I realized that I would be incredibly regretful if something were to happen to me and I never shared this work since it really is one of my favorites. 
> 
> I guess I just want to say that I am no longer emotionally attached to this fic in the same way I was when I wrote it, but I'm proud of it and I don't think it deserves to be sitting in my google drive collecting dust. Here it is.
> 
> **fair warnings** This still is cathartic writing from something that really hurt me, so if you're looking for something happy this is _not_ it. Also sorry to Connor for making him the bad guy, nothing against him, he seems like a good dude, just not in this fic.
> 
> -  
  
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Sometimes Dylan wonders if he did something to deserve this. Like, if karma has been keeping extra careful tabs on him and decided to cash in all at once because he wrestled Matt just a little too hard when they were kids. 

Sometimes Dylan _ hopes _ that he did something to deserve this, just so he can justify whatever the fuck his life is because it sure as hell would be infuriating if, out of all the people in the world, fate decided to pluck him from the masses and toy with him, specifically, at complete random. 

Sometimes, Dylan wishes he could hit reset on this whole fucking thing and never get caught up in any of this goddamn shit. Good times be damned, nothing is worth _ this _. 

• • •

Connor is like, perfect.

And it’s not in an _ actual _ perfect way, it’s more like, a perfect just for Dylan kind of way. Okay no, that sounds weird. What Dylan means is that Connor vibes with him so well it’s like their wavelengths oscillate in perfect unison, matched up to every single peak and trough. It’s like they just _ happen _ to already be in sync, they don’t even have to link up. Boom, matched, automatic just like that.

It’s almost too good to be true. It’s almost _ weird. _

But.

It isn’t.

• • •

They’re nearly inseparable.

It’s a surprise to absolutely no one, no one except for maybe Dylan himself at first. But when he says he’s surprised, he’s always met with confused stares, because apparently everyone else in the world seemed to always know that Connor and Dylan go together like a value meal. How? Dylan wouldn’t know, but he apparently doesn’t make the rules here.

It’s almost kind of scary. Not that Connor is scary or anything. It’s the opposite, actually. Connor is _ good, _ Connor means so much so fast and Dylan doesn’t know what to make of that. Connor becomes something, _ someone _ he cares about quicker than anyone else Dylan’s ever let into his life. 

That’s part of it, probably. It’s not like it’s on purpose, but Dylan’s been a little cynical, a little closed off when it comes to stuff like this. Shit happens and it sticks with you, okay? That’s just how life goes sometimes. It’s not like he’s moping 24/7 or anything, he’s still a friendly enough guy, tries to be, anyway. But when it gets deep he’s outta there. When it gets personal, he’s changing the subject before anyone can even process the previous.

So when Connor steps into his life, carefully tip-toeing around the so carefully ingrained landmines surrounding the Real Dylan Strome… it _ means _ something. It’s important, it’s uncharted, it’s the dangerous unknown.

Dylan doesn’t have the slightest clue on how to proceed. So he metaphorically stands there, stock frozen, and watches in both horror and relief as Connor McDavid manages to squeeze his way into his life and, subsequently, into his head. 

It’s scary, it’s terrifying. But Connor feels so incredibly safe. He feels like he belongs with him, he makes him laugh when he’s down, makes him love himself whenever he’s around him. It’s like, it isn’t just Connor’s presence that feels nice, it’s like Connor makes Dylan into someone that Dylan himself can find peace with. It’s like Connor makes Dylan happy with _ himself _ for the first time in a very, very long time. 

It’s like Connor makes him a better Dylan, the best version of Dylan Strome he could possibly be.

Besides, it feels nice to be called someone’s best friend, their favorite person, their hockey soulmate. It feels nice to be prioritized for once.

So Dylan lets down his guard, just a tiny bit at a time, until there’s nearly nothing left of it. Until he feels like he flows together with Connor like they’ve always been connected, in tune, woven together for longer than they’ve even existed. 

Slowly, Dylan disarms each landmine, one by one, without even realizing it. 

• • •

At some point, Dylan thinks that letting Connor so easily into his life is a positive, a development, a breakthrough in the evolution of his character. 

But the Wolf didn’t look like one when he devoured Little Red whole. 

• • •

Dylan doesn’t even consider the possibility, not at first and not during and not even for a long while after. It’s just, Connor fits into his life so easily, they click without any effort at all and it’s so good that no one is keen to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Some things are just too good to be true. No one is perfect and there is almost always a catch. Most of the time they’re overcomable, and maybe that’s what they place their bets on, the assumption they’ll be able to work out any kinks as they come. But you know what they say about assumptions…

It’s almost funny, the way the world gives and takes in the cruelest ways.

Dylan has never been worried about hockey, that part is fine. No matter how many times Ryan or his mother has sat him down and given him the ‘backup plan talk’, Dylan has never broken too much of a sweat when it comes down to his hockey. 

But it’s the other parts, the ‘new country, new place’ part, the ‘all by himself with people he doesn’t really know’ part. It’s not necessarily scary, but perhaps a little lonely. And maybe — at least retrospectively — Dylan was just eager for a friend. 

He didn’t mean for anything to get rooted so deeply, really. That wasn’t the intention.

Sometimes things don’t go as planned, and pretty soon, Dylan feels that Connor is so entwined into his life it’d be fatal to even think about untangling themselves apart. It’s not easy to recognize, when there’s such a thin line between ‘best friends’ and ‘codependent’ but it’s important to never lose sight of the difference.

Dylan, naive and hopeful, forgets to keep tabs. Yet, he can’t totally be blamed. It truly is difficult to stay on your toes when Connor McDavid carefully steps into your life, takes your hand, and tells you to jump, to dive in with him. 

The adrenaline of it all successfully masks the inhibition. 

• • •

Perhaps the part that surprises Dylan the most is how easy it is to open up to Connor, and so quickly at that. Maybe it’s because Connor is so open with him, so ready to share his greatest demons, all so quickly. They haven’t known each other long, but Connor talks to him like he’s known him his entire life.

Dylan won’t lie, he very much is an energy-matcher, assesses individual situations and follows the lead of his company. Maybe that plays a big role here, but that’s not the only thing. There’s something else, too, even if Dylan can’t quite name it.

Connor isn’t shy to open up about what’s bothering him, about his nuances with family, his irks with his other friends. Connor gives it to him straight, without embellishment, without beating around the real issues. Connor exudes genuity, and it feels like he’s poured the utmost trust into Dylan.

It makes Dylan feel special, like he’s important to Connor, like he’s been carefully chosen and entrusted with the responsibility of Connor’s deepest and darkest. He’s honored, really, and he holds that trust closely to his chest. Cherishes it. 

So in that moment, all things considered and all aspects applied, Dylan only feels right reciprocating. It’s harder for him, because he’s hardly even at this point with his own brother. He and his friends from back home aren’t like this, but Connor is different and perhaps different is good.

He takes it slower than Connor, of course, but faster than he’s ever had before. It takes a whole lot of courage and a whole lot of self-energy to pry back each layer. It takes a lot of willpower and sometimes it takes a lot out of him. But the way Connor talks makes Dylan think it’s worth it. Makes Dylan think this is part of that personal growth thing. 

Every time that Dylan manages to get a little deeper, to say something he’s never said out loud before, he basks in self pride and runs on the rush of accomplishing something, no matter how vulnerable he feels. The pride swells to his ears, so much that he hardly notices the way Connor reacts like it’s nothing. The way Connor regards his emotional vulnerability as nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary, like it’s something he gets from every each one of the people in his life. A guarantee, a given, something he is entitled to solely because he wears the title of “friend” for you. 

Dylan doesn’t hear it until he’s rewound the tape of his life and played it back like forensic evidence. 

But it should’ve been apparent, really, and Dylan eventually kicks himself when he looks back on it. There’s so much to back it up, even outside of their little confessional sessions in dark hotel rooms, cuddled under separate blankets.

It should’ve been apparent from the minute that Dylan decides to stop asking Connor for advice, to stop venting to him, even though Connor freely does so to him. Dylan doesn’t mind being there for Connor, but it’s a learning curve that he so carefully scrambles to match.

Connor doesn’t want real advice, not most of the time. He likes spewing his emotions out all at once, likes having someone that sits there and nods and tells him what he wants to hear, even if it’s wrong. Dylan learns this quickly, both from personal experience and from Connor himself.

It’s not him, but another of their friends, who gives Connor real advice. Dylan is the one to hear about it, the one that has to hear how Connor doesn’t want anyone telling him what to do, how he just needs people to hear him and validate him. Even if he _ shouldn’t _ be validated. Dylan bites back that thought, feeling just a little mean.

Dylan goes to Connor a few times, especially in the first few months of their budding friendship. There’s a lot going on, a lot to adjust to, and he thinks that Connor might be able to relate. But he doesn’t get anything substantial from him, he doesn’t get the deep connection he thought they had. 

Maybe that’s what really scares him off, the lack of it.

But Connor replies to his paragraphs with a measly _ wow that sucks but you can get through this :( _ and that’s it, that’s all. It’s nice, but it’s not what Dylan was expecting. Not when he’s sat up on FaceTime all night talking Connor through this or that, not when he’s gone out of his way, bent over backwards to fix Connor’s problems to the best he can. 

Dylan gets that not everyone can be that person, so Dylan simply accepts that Connor isn’t everyone (he’s never been everyone, after all) and doesn’t come to Connor again. 

• • •

When people say they love you over and over again but their actions speak otherwise… well, it’ll wear anyone down eventually. 

It happens slowly, so fucking little by little that Dylan doesn’t realize it when it happens, not at all. He figures they’ve been friends for a while now, the honeymoon period of it all has faded out by now. It’s kinda like they’re married now, where they piss each other off all the time but at the end of the day they love each other. Deep down. Even through the worst of it.

But then Dylan’s curled up in bed, heart hurting in pangs, desperately trying to push it down for Connor’s sake. It hurts, physically hurts, but he has to be strong for the both of them, he has to be the anchor here. Connor’s going through enough, he doesn’t need Dylan’s melodrama, too. And Dylan would rather die than be the one to drag Connor down further, especially after everything Connor’s done for him. Especially after Connor’s so graciously accepted the position of his best friend.

Besides, it’s probably just in his head. Maybe Dylan has to stop being so picky about people, maybe he has to bend a little more, maybe he has to suck it up because this is what it’s like to have friends. And it’s not like Dylan doesn’t have _ any _ other friends, but he’s always kept his inner circle small, he’s always had the same kind of people in his life. Maybe this is how most people are, and Dylan just never opened up enough to others to meet them.

Maybe it’s Dylan, and maybe Dylan should stop being such a _ fucking _ baby and try to be a good friend for once in his goddamn life.

It’s exhausting, though, because it’s not like Dylan is purposefully a bad friend. He’s just used to being the way he is and the people around him being cool with it, accepting and reassuring him that it’s fine. And it’s nothing on Connor but. Connor’s just different than his other friends; he burns so intensely and everything else just seems right and Connor makes him happy— er, _ made _him happy? 

Dylan pushes that thought down because he already feels miserable enough, he doesn’t need to fuel it even more.

Besides, it’s Dylan’s own fault, probably, and he should just get over it.

• • •

It’s just little things and Connor always asks nicely enough, so Dylan can’t say no, even when it’s inconvenient, even when Connor should know that Dylan doesn’t like this or that. He can’t say no because Connor probably wouldn’t say no if it was the other way around, right? Connor’s other friends wouldn’t say no, right? Connor would probably be hurt if Dylan said no.

Connor is always hurt, and even though Dylan hurts, too, he’s trapped. 

He can never say no to Connor. But every yes takes a piece of him with it. 

• • •

Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if Dylan asked for things, too. Connor would say yes, probably. Not probably, absolutely. But what if Connor’s like him, what if Connor wants to say no but feels like he shouldn’t? So Dylan doesn’t ask because he wouldn’t want to do that to Connor.

He wouldn’t want him to feel the way he does.

• • •

It’s not all bad, because Dylan knows in his heart that Connor cares about him in his own way. It’s like, Connor does things for Dylan that Connor would probably want done for himself. It’s sweet in the same kind of way it is when a kid gives you a messy crayon drawing, so Dylan tries to treat it that way. Tries not to think about the fact that Connor is not a kid and that Connor is an adult and that Connor is his peer and his friend.

Dylan tries very, very hard.

But it’s hard to ignore when it comes up and it’s so painfully obvious that Connor — the one individual person he’s let come close, the only individual person he’s helped climb over his walls — barely even _ knows him _ knows him.

It all comes to a head, eventually, because nothing is escapable, apparently. It’s actually Connor’s idea, which kind of makes it worse. 

“This sounds kind of fun,” he says, peering at the notice from Otters PR on the bulletin board. “Wanna do it with me?”

“Hm?” Dylan says, more focused on his phone, opting to let Connor explain like he knows he’ll probably do it anyway. 

“_ How well do you know me _ challenge, it’s like that thing where there’s a question about one of us and we both answer it at the same time.”

“You’re predictable,” Dylan shrugs, “easy A.”

“You really think so,” Connor grins.

Dylan rolls his eyes but pockets his phone. “Alright, let’s do it, sign us up.”

So Connor quickly scrawls their names on the notice and it doesn’t come up again for a few days. Not until PR pulls them after practice and asks them if they’re ready to film for it. Dylan shrugs, still more or less on board, and looks to Connor. Looks to follow his lead, to follow whatever he’s feeling today. 

“Let’s do it,” Connor grins.

It’s easy enough, PR sits them opposite each other, hands out a pair of whiteboards and markers. They explain that they’ll read off the question, give a count of three, and then they’ll show their boards at the same time. No peeking.They almost make it sound fun, even.

“My favorite sport outside of hockey,” Connor reads from the sheet. 

Dylan yawns, doesn’t miss a beat when he starts writing. They wait for the count and he’s pleased when he sees his answer matched on Connor’s board.

_ SKIING. _

“Favorite snack,” Connor says, glint in his eye.

“Easy” Dylan grins, doesn’t hesitate to start writing. They show their boards and Dylan leans back, pleased with his correct answer. “Fruit gushers, you nerd.”

“Hey,” Connor shoves at him. It’s light and it gets a good laugh out of both Dylan and the PR team.

They go back and forth like that until Dylan’s answered all of Connor’s half of the questions, his responses received graciously with a proud look from Connor, who happily affirms every fact.

Dylan feels pretty good about it, because he is that good of a friend. He’s a great friend. And having that validated is good, it’s really good. 

But it doesn’t last long because Connor leans back into his chair and smiles, nearly gleeful. “Okay your turn.”

Still riding the satisfaction of his own round, Dylan shrugs. “Alright, let’s go.”

“Favorite sport, hm,” Connor pauses while Dylan starts writing his own answer.

They show their boards and Connor doesn’t even look over, say proudly, “you like baseball.”

And that’s— Okay, sure, Dylan and his brothers all played baseball, too, when they were kids but that’s not nearly close. It’s definitely, without a doubt, golf. He tries to angle his own whiteboard away, just a little.

Luckily, Connor has barely glanced, is already on to the next question.

“Wait, let’s come back to snack, I’m gonna think about it,” Connor breezes through, before Dylan can even read off his page. So Dylan shrugs, goes to the next bullet point. “Biggest role model…”

That one’s easy, everyone knows that, it’s documented all over his player profiles and interviews. At least Connor will get this one. It’s easy, it’s Ryan—

Boards flip, and Connor’s is unmistakably, so confidently boasting _ MOM. _

—oh.

Dylan swallows and goes with it. It’s hard to keep his face straight, to keep this light. It’s just a dumb game, it doesn’t even matter. The last thing he’s going to do is make a big deal out of it. So he nods along with each question, takes it lightly, the sinking in his stomach growing bigger and bigger.

Connor doesn’t seem too incredibly phased, so Dylan tries not to feel too awkward about this whole mistake of a situation. It’s not a big deal, it’s not a big deal, it’s not a big deal. Stop making it a big deal. He does his best to swallow it all down, to ignore it.

It’s heavy, but he’s always been good at strength training. 

• • •

Connor’s complaining about Alex. Again. Dylan shifts uncomfortably in his seat, keeps his answers short and disinterested. Tries to politely send the message that he doesn’t like talking about Alex behind his back, doesn’t want to hear Connor vent and have to deal with keeping the secret from his other friend. 

He’s gonna hate it tomorrow morning when Connor grins at Alex in the morning like he never said any of this, like he never dragged him through the mud just to pretend like nothing’s wrong and everything’s perfect. Dylan doesn’t like keeping Alex in the dark, doesn’t like watching him play so easily into what Connor wants. Doesn’t like watching Connor take and take and take so one-sidedly from poor Alex, who really deserves better than that.

It’s kind of sick, watching Connor turn around so fucking easily and act like nothing is wrong, like everything is perfect, and like he wasn’t just picking apart everything Alex has ever done, just five minutes ago. He looks away when Connor’s face changes when Alex walks up, he holds his tongue and lets it happen. 

It’s a while after Connor leaves but Dylan lays in bed and wonders what Connor says about _ him _ behind his back to his other friends. He doesn’t ever have to wonder it he does, because he knows he has to, he’s talked about every single person in his life to Dylan’s face, even when they’d barely known each other way back in the beginning. It has to be inevitable, and it has to be _ easy, _ if what just happened with Alex is anything to go by. 

He wonders if this is normal, if it’s just healthy venting, if it’s just Dylan being dramatic about something again because his other friends are too soft on him. Dylan wonders if the nauseous feeling in his throat — the one he gets when he thinks about it — is normal, too.

• • •

Christmas comes around and Dylan takes the utmost pride in his gift-giving skills. He’d thought long and hard about Connor’s present, has a duty as his friend to really hit the nail on knowing him well enough to get him something personal, something that he really deserves.

It was really hard to get, and Dylan did so much research and hunting to make sure he had the perfect present ready on time. Early, even, just so he could marvel at his handiwork. It’s not even about the present itself, but the meaning behind it. The thought that went into it. He thinks Connor will appreciate that part, he thinks Connor will be touched. 

And Connor _ is _ ecstatic when he opens it, of course he is. He takes a snap and sends it to all his streaks, posts it up on his private instagram. Tells the world how blessed he is to have Dylan in his life, how lucky he is to have someone who gets him, who’s practically in his head. Someone whose soul is almost an exact copy, edge to edge. 

Dylan beams until Connor makes a sheepish face, rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“I don’t have yours yet, but it’s coming, I promise!” He says it fast, like a killshot, easy and over with fast. 

It’s not like Dylan waits around or anything but the holidays come and go, he gets Connor’s birthday present shipped to him. It’s nothing really, but then Dylan’s birthday comes, too, and there’s nothing.

Not even a card.

It doesn’t feel right, it doesn’t feel good, but Dylan somehow explains that one away in his head, too. It’s just presents, that’s not everyone’s love language. That’s not the important part of a friendship. But somewhere deep down, he thinks it’s not really about the material items itself. Connor could give him a wad of stick tape if there was a _ Happy Birthday! _ attached to it. He’d be over the moon, with just a little acknowledgement.

And isn’t that pathetic? Get over yourself, Stromer.

Besides. Connor’s got a lot of stuff going on. Or whatever. Dylan tries not to overreact. 

• • •

It makes him feel like such a fucking baby, because everyone goes through this, and it’s not like he’s special, but Dylan gets stuck in a slump and feels like absolute shit. 

He feels bad but he tells Alex they’ll have to raincheck on lunch, because there’s no way he’s crawling out of his room today. It’s maybe not the best approach, but Dylan thinks about going out and pretending to be okay and the thought itself almost makes him sick right there. 

The good thing is that Alex gets it, Alex ruffles his hair and tells him it’s okay, tells him he gets it and he’ll always wait for him. Because Alex is always understanding, bless his soul, and he’s a good friend that Dylan sometimes thinks he doesn’t deserve. 

It’s only a couple days later, and Dylan’s feeling a little bit better about himself, better enough to make it out of the house and trudge through practice and conditioning. Alex gives him a big hug, promises that he’s ready to take Dylan out for that raincheck whenever he’s ready. He smiles, a real one, for the first time in a long time.

But then Connor’s skating up next, bumping their shoulders together. “I’ll come get you at nine tonight? For that party, I mean.”

Dylan didn’t forget about it, but he’d secretly hoped that Connor had. He considers saying something now, but Connor’s looking at him with a hint of anticipation and there’s no way Dylan can say straight out no to him. 

But. “No it’s cool, I’ll meet you there.”

Connor blinks but shrugs. “Sure, see you there, then.”

Dylan swallows.

• • •

He means to go, he really, really does. Right up until the very last second, where he’s locked himself in the bathroom and hangs over the toilet bowl, half-expecting something to come up. The tightness in his chest has spread to a churning in his belly. The weight, the cottony feeling in his head is so incredibly heavy, he isn’t sure he can even make it back to his bed.

There’s no way he can responsibly let himself go out and drink when he’s like this, it isn’t smart and it’s dangerous. He’s not healed, not just yet, and there’s no way he can put on his fake smile, no way he can pretend to be okay, not even for a few hours. 

Not even for Connor.

But Connor isn’t like Alex. He can’t just tell him, he can’t. A memory plays behind his eyelids, a distinct conversation he had in Connor’s basement, where Connor had complained about Raddy’s slump, about how Taylor acted, about how he wouldn’t just get over it. Dylan had known by then, well-trained, not to oppose Connor, even if he didn’t agree. Even if he thought Connor was being unfair and unsympathetic, and honestly? Kind of an asshole.

But he never forgot about it, never forgot how Connor had selfishly droned on about how Taylor was just being dramatic. About how Taylor was annoying and how draining it was to be his friend sometimes.

And well. Dylan doesn’t want Connor to think the same of him.

He doesn’t really know what excuse he pulls out of his ass, but he offers up something that seems logical enough, crawls into bed, and calls Alex.

• • •

Dylan almost doesn’t believe it. In fact, it’s so shocking that Dylan tries to rationalize it, tries to break it down until he can analyze his own faults and figure out what he did to cause this to happen. It’s so shocking that Dylan almost convinces himself that he misunderstood, tries to convince himself that he’s missing something.

But what happens isn’t so much as important as what it _ means _. 

It’s just. The one time Dylan lets someone in, the one time in his whole goddamn life, they scoop out his insides and leave him hollow.

He’s never felt so personally violated, so picked apart, so exposed as he does now. He and Connor have always been trusting enough to be a little looser, to let things flow freely, but there is always a line somewhere. There is always a line.

Dylan knows that Connor knows that. Knows Connor saw the line, and just like the landmines, carefully tiptoed around them. Calculated, like he knew all along how to do this, like it’s a skill that he’s learned and applied often enough. 

Hindsight is twenty-twenty, and Dylan hates that he had been nearly blind.

It’s the blatant betrayal that hurts the most. While Connor may not have known his favorite sport or snack or role model, while Connor may have not picked up on his discomforts, while Connor may have brushed off his birthdays, at the very least, he had to have known how much their friendship meant. He had to know how much it meant for Dylan, who had told him straight out that Connor was one of the few people he trusted, one of the few people he’s ever let in.

Connor knew, he absolutely knew exactly what he was doing. 

The worst of it doesn’t even fall into place until Alex finally caves, the guilt of knowing too heavy for him to bear. He tells him everything he knows, and Dylan pulls a face when some things just don’t line up.

He doesn’t want to say it in front of Alex, but. A few things become clear: Connor did it on purpose, Connor didn’t tell him the truth about it, Connor tried to use that information against him.

It runs through Dylan’s head over and over again like a mean mantra, accusatory. He should’ve known, he should’ve seen this coming, he should’ve—

He didn’t, and he doesn’t still.

Dylan doesn’t have the slightest clue on how to proceed. So he metaphorically stands there, stock frozen, and watches in both horror and relief as Connor McDavid manages to dig his way out of Dylan’s life.

His head, though. He stays there.

Dylan wishes he could kick him out right away. If only it were that easy.

• • •

It takes Dylan a while to reconcile.

Logically he knows that this is the last straw. Logically he knows that Connor can’t stay in his life, can’t continue to yank him down over and over again like this. Logically, he knows he has to stick up for himself. 

But after everything they’ve been through together... Connor made him happy at some point, Connor made him love himself at some point, Connor was his friend at some point.

He trusted Connor. At some point.

And even outside of that, they’ve spent so much time attached at the hip, so much time as Connor and Dylan. And Dylan, fucking dammit, Dylan has spent so much time trying to integrate himself into Connor’s life, trying to find a place for himself, trying to prove he’s worthy of his position as Connor’s best friend. All he’s done is neglect his own life trying to continuously prove himself in Connor’s. 

If there’s a fallout, all of that goes. Dylan isn’t sure where their friends will lay allegiance, isn’t sure what their friends have already heard, isn’t sure whose word is stronger. 

There’s no winning, Dylan decides. If he keeps pretending to do this whole friend thing with Connor, it’ll really consume him this time. And as much as Connor had done to him, it’s not like it was all on purpose. Most of it wasn’t malicious, most of it was just Connor being Connor. And even though Dylan is hurting, has been hurting, Connor doesn’t deserve Dylan painting on his happy face over and over again, pretending not to be bitter and angry and hurt and upset. 

But there’s no way he can end this without Connor making a big deal out of it. He’s going to be upset and he’s going to talk, he always talks. It’s unavoidable.

So Dylan tries to focus on himself, decides he’ll deal with the Connor situation when he’s ready.

• • •

Connor, surprisingly, finally apologizes.

And Dylan almost falls for it. He knows what he has to do, but. He’s spent so much time with Connor, has dedicated so much to their friendship, it’s nearly impossible to avoid the voids he used to fill, to try to replace him so quickly in so many aspects of his life. 

Dylan still aches with hurt, a clench at his heart, but Dylan misses him. Misses the times when Connor made him happy, however long ago that was. Misses the times that were _ good. _

He misses having someone that gets him, that understands what he likes and what he’s going through, misses having a carbon copy of himself around to do the things they like to do.

Dylan almost caves.

But he hears Ryan’s voice in the back of his head, sees Matt’s disapproving face on the back of his eyelids. 

Dylan still has trouble saying no to Connor, but he doesn’t say yes.

It’s progress.

• • •

Dylan never says no, but Connor grows impatient and decides it for the both of them.

• • •

Alex is the one who tells him, because he’s never been good at holding in the guilt, the burden.

Dylan wishes that he never did, because ignorance sure is bliss. But he doesn’t tell Alex, who looks like the weight of the world has been lifted from him. He’ll let him have that relief. Someone deserves to have it.

• • •

Nothing is easy, and it hurts, it really fucking hurts, in the meantime.

Connor doesn’t get it, Connor doesn’t understand, because he’s always been so incredibly wrapped up in his own world that there’s no way he’ll ever see it from Dylan’s point of view. 

Sometimes Dylan doesn’t even know what to do with himself. It’s like he’s fresh to the OHL again, lost and without a friend. It’s like he’s starting fresh, completely all over, back to square one years later. 

He feels so out of his element, so strange doing the Connor And Dylan Things without Connor, doing these kinds of things on his own, or desperately trying to find stand-ins, to find comfort in the other people in his life. They help as much as they can, but none of them are Connor.

It sucks when it comes down to those kinds of things, and sometimes he second guesses his choices. But then he remembers how much lighter he feels, how much lighter his _ soul _ feels, how much lighter his head is without the cottony weight, whisked away with the tatters of his long-failed friendship. 

It sucks for now, but Dylan knows he’ll be better soon enough. He’ll heal, he’ll learn, and he’ll prosper. 

With or without Connor McDavid. 

• • • • • •

It’s weird, calling Connor by his last name, by “McDavid,” even years later. But he doesn’t like the way “Connor” feels on his tongue anymore, doesn’t dare even think about “Davo” without feeling a rush of dread pool in his gut. No one seems to question it, not even when he’s literally being questioned on podcast. Some people on Twitter speculate, but it’s not important enough of an issue to gain traction. Not when Connor’s out there being Connor.

He won’t look him in the eye, not even on ice, but that’s alright.

Dylan had hurt for long, but he’d healed. And if Connor is free to just be Connor, he’s happy enough to just be Dylan being Dylan.

He’ll take it.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> title from sick of losing soulmates by dodie clark


End file.
